I Wanna Speak With the Writer
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: CSI, with a smattering of Will&Grace, West Wing and X-Files. Purely a celebration for myself.


Title: I Wanna Speak With the Writer

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG-13

Category: Humor

A/N: Hey guys, this is in commemoration of my 100th posted story. It's just a little jaunt through my favorite characters. Review me and maybe I'll write you a hundred more. ;-)

Also, thanks to all the people who have helped me along the way. You all know who you are!

**-Setting: 9:30 A.M., Downtown Museland-**

"Honey, what's this, what's going on, what am I drinking?" Her voice was slightly nasal and irritating, and she held up the mug as if it were a foreign object.

"Karen, that's coffee."

"Straight!"

The handsome man to her right laughed. "Yes Karen, that's how normal people drink coffee in the morning. Without BAILEY'S!" Karen shot him a look that could make anyone else wither, crossed her legs and acted disinterested-no, was disinterested.

The well-dressed man held up his newspaper. "Hmm what's this? John Wells blew up another CODEL in Gaza. Sofia Curtis and Conrad Ecklie were among the casualties."

The red head looked up from inhaling her muffin. "Who're Sofia Curtis and Conrad Ecklie?"

The man shrugged. "Who cares? Not our network."

"How many calories are in this muffin?" The man at the counter asked, with a bit too much flair for the cashier's liking. "Because... I need to lose three pounds by Friday and-" The cashier walked away, leaving the man to huff.

"Whaada?-It'sa-And you-NO TIP FOR YOU!" And the man huffed back to the table and sat down next to the red head that was picking raisins out of her muffin.

"You ever notice how the raisin is like... the grape's ex-boyfriend?" The red head stated, staring deeply at her muffin.

The handsome man spoke, smiling at what he thought was good humor on his part." Or... grandmother."

"Oh my god Will, you're so funny." The other man, obviously flamboyantly gay, said quickly as Grace, the red head, pondered why the writers always gave her the least funny lines. Would it kill them to let her ad-lib?

"Anyway, I have something really important to tell you guys!" Generally, when he said something like that, they all tuned him out... for one reason: it was never important, to anyone but him that is. "Well you all know, after the mondo success of 'Just Jack 2004' that-oh! Hottie at the counter!"

The man was up and out of his seat in record time, weaving his way through the people to get to the man at the counter. He slid over, attempting be sly, but only succeeding in looking like he had an inner ear problem.

Jack licked his lips and spoke. "Hey there!" He gave the man his best 'come hither' smile (in reality it was just a 'hey, I want to get into your pants' smile). The other man smiled back, somewhat oblivious and turned back forward, waiting for his order. "Whatcha got there?" Jack gestured to the paper bag in the man's hand.

"Donut." The man said. He actually looked more like a boy, and that's what got Jack's attention in the first place. After all, Jack was always on the prowl for newbies. The man kept looking over his shoulder at him.

"Did I like, cut you or something?"

Jack smiled and winked. "Hmm, not yet." And then he laughed, and the other man's eyes went wide.

"Oh, I uh, um, I'm not-" The man-child babbled on, gesturing with his hands at himself, at the man, and just at his general surroundings. He didn't quite know what to say. Why did gay guys always hit on him?

"I'm Jack!" He thrust out his hand and the other man took it, cautiously. "Jack McFarland."

Perhaps you've heard of my one man show, 'Just Jack?'" The other man shook his head, as the gay man threw his hands up in front of his face.

"Uh, no, and I'm uh, Greg Sanders... and I'm late for work, my boss is gonna-"

Just as he was about to move away from the counter another man came up behind him. "Greg, what the hell is so hard about 'two donuts, two coffees?'" The man had a Texas drawl and was built. Jack likie.

Jack found himself thanking the few deities he believed in (some of which were Cher and James Van Der Beek) that they'd sent him such hotties.

"I'm sorry Nick, I just got wrapped up in... nothing." Greg hung his head and handed the other man one of the cups, moving away from Jack before he had the chance to introduce himself again.

"Let's go man, Griss is going to kill us... and I'm so blaming it on you." The Texan threw on his sunglasses and made his way out into the bright sun. Jack went back to his table, dejected.

"How come all the hotties are taken?"

Back at the counter, someone was fighting about muffins. Loudly.

"I just want to know how many calories are in them Leo. It's not that far fetch-"

"Will you just pick one so I can pay the man? We don't have all day to worry about nutritional value Margaret. We're on the government's time here."

"A balanced breakfast is important. You of all people should know that. Now leave me alone or I'm making you eat bran!" She would, he knew no matter how hard he fought... he'd generally just end up giving in, for the sake of saving time and energy.

The man's face fell... until he realized that she couldn't really tell him what to do. He was about to tell her so when she cut him off. "Bran and grapefruit Leo, I'll make you eat bran and grapefruit."

"Nutritional value." A woman's voice popped up from behind them and they spun to see who it was. "You should know that by now Leopold. Essential for your survival."

"You know I can fire you Claudia Jean." She smiled brilliantly at him and moved around the two of them.

"That's why I know when not to overstep my bounds."

"You just kinda did CJ, you cut us."

CJ waved them off with her hand. "I'm just getting a coffee, not discussing the finer points of bran and blueberries. And you know those muffins'll kill you." The press secretary whirled off with her latte, allowing the other two government employees to place their orders.

Margaret smiled when Leo begrudgingly ordered a bran muffin and they stepped away from the counter, making room for the two people who had stepped up behind them.

"Can I, uh, have... two coffees black, please?" The man pulled out his wallet and spare change fell onto the floor. The red head with him cringed.

"I want mine decaf." She really didn't need more coffee, she was running on high-octane caffeine after spending a night in the desert, looking for UFOs.

The man glared at her and produced a twenty-dollar bill. She liked it when he paid for her. He did it often, whether to be chivalrous or because of something else, neither was sure. "Can I get that second one decaf?"

"With su-"

"With sugar." Like he didn't know how she took her coffee after nine years, hundreds of genetic mutants and countless abductions and subsequent returns.

"Thank you, Mulder."

"God, Scully. You're so... specific."

"Well, I have to be around you."

"I love you Scully." He smiled at her, handed her a coffee and sipped from his.

She shrugged and sipped hers as well. "I love you too, I guess. I mean, I must have to, I had your baby and ran away, gave up my life, my future, my child, changed my name and ultimately dyed my hair... for you... right?"

They shrugged and made to walk off.

"No one likes these blonde streaks." He pointed out.

"Well, it really wasn't up to me, was it?"

Scully winked and turned around, walking directly into a brooding, bearded man standing behind her. "Sorry." The man nodded and stepped to the counter.

Toby Zeigler eyed the exotic choices. What the hell was a macc- maca-macarena? Macchiato! What the hell was a macchiato? His spirits were dourer than they usually were and the young man behind the counter walked to him slowly.

"Oh, just give... give me a black coffee. Make it bitter."

-Somewhere at a pretty park, across town…- 

A couple, strolled by. The man was relatively short, black and boyishly handsome. The girl was quite a bit shorter and giggling like a moron. They were arguing about why they kept dancing around each other when it was clear that they were the one romance that was supposed to follow through.

"You're the President's daughter."

"But you're not intimidated by that!"

The man shook his head. "I'm not, that makes me cool... do you think I'm suave?"

The girl nodded. "Charlie, you are the epitome of suave."

Charlie thought for a minute. "I am, aren't I?" She looked at him and laughed. "Okay, not so much, but at least I try. And I prove that chivalry isn't dead."

"You know it's too bad that Sam was supposed to be the boyishly charming one..."

"Yeah, it is too bad Zoey..." They strolled on beside the lake, enjoying the warm spring sun.

Two people were seated, ironically enough, under a willow tree. Her head was on his shoulder and he was casually picking up rocks and tossing them in the water. She snuck a glance up at him, he caught her, smiled, undid another one of his shirt buttons... and looked back out at the lake before them.

They sat in silence for long minutes.

"Hey Warrick?"

"Yeah Cath?"

"Wanna go have sex?"

"Okay."

Another couple sat on a bench. Both wore grim expressions. She was biting her lip and he was worrying his hand. "It's not that Sara! I can't be with you because The Powers That Be won't let me. It's just not in the stars honey." Too bad it was the middle of the day and there were no stars to actually be seen.

Her head fell, but then it snapped up; there was fire in her eyes, there was always fire in her eyes. She was about to begin to once again fight the good fight when a man, walking past, tripped over her outstretched leg and fell flat on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to have tripped over your plot!" The man said, color rising in his cheeks.

"He never looks where he's going." The blonde commented and shot the man a look. "Get up Joshua, you look like a fool. And fix your tie."

Sara looked at the blonde quizzically. "Do your writers screw with you?" Grissom went to grab her hand but she pulled it out of his reach. Jerk.

Donna nodded vehemently. "We flirted a ton, then they split us up. I guess I should just be grateful that he didn't drop... a helicopter on us." Donna thought for a moment and looked on as Josh stood up and brushed off his pants.

"Though I did get blown up."

"Oh! That's horrible!" Sara exclaimed. Grissom even showed a bit of outward emotion for once. He winced. "I got blown up too, kinda. Didn't work out too well for the plotline... I mean... for uh... me. Lotsa angst."

Donna nodded and hung her head and missed the meaningful glance that Josh gave her. His eyes looked like a lost puppy's, so he hung his head to hide them. She looked up and he missed her longing, passionate glance, but he heard her sigh.

**-The… ehem… Oval Office…-**

A very distinguished man leaned back in a chair behind a large mahogany desk. He looked down at his carpet, and a little quiver when up his spine when he spied the seal there. "Ahhh, this is the life Jim."

"Yes, yes it is."

"Two old guys, highly underrated characters, just kicking back... enjoying a couple of Cubans... even though I should get way more screen time because... I AM THE DAMN PRESIDENT!"

"Yes, yes sir, this is the life."

"You know, you're straight forward, I like you. You from New Hampshire?"

Jim Brass shook his head and leaned back on the ugly pinstriped couch. President Bartlet shrugged. "Eh, I like you anyway. You're gruff and masculine. You have... something about you."

"Hmmm, you have a degenerative disease... I like you."

-A non-descript room, downtown Museland…- 

"Sam, you're a writer... right?"

"That's what they tell me, though I haven't been around for a couple of seasons. I think... yeah I'm a congressman now." He cleaned his glasses on his shirttails and slipped them back on his face. He thought he heard someone gasp when he did so, but it was just his imagination.

Will scratched his head and wondered why he was brought in, in the first place. Sam obviously had way better character development than he did. "Mmm yeah. Well, I have a question."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Why does she write about us?" He asked seriously, flinging himself into one of the chairs that the writer had so thoughtfully provided for them.

"Well, it could have something to do with the fact that our writers all tend to go downhill around season five and can't come up with credible plotlines to keep her interested."

Will pondered the answer for a moment and then added, "Or... she has no life."

"Yeah... or that."

END


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